Wynne Greenwood

Theres nothing good on TV. So lets paint it hot pink and dress it up with bondage gear! Well, maybe thats not the exact working method of Wynne Greenwood, but theres a certain dirty whimsy suggested by her installation Strap-on TVs. Two brightly painted television sets sit on the floor of the tiny alcove gallery, positioned so you can plop down on benches and stare. Theyre both adorned with strap-ons, only the phalli are missing, so you just peer through the crotch holes at whatevers on screen. Its a good deal less sexy than it sounds. Instead of smut, the video loops seem to be of furnituretables and benches and counters. Porn would be too obvious, especially when the concept herethe penetrating gaze, etc.is quite sufficiently explicit. But still you watch, hoping something, well, exciting will happen. But the rather grainy, fuzzy images are resolutely boring; anything potentially erotic is left to your imagination. (Is the framing on those table corners triangular, vaguely vulvar?) Still, a little programming variety would be nice. Not pornography, but a Seahawks game or Glenn Beck or Animal Planetsomething that needs a hard look, so to speak. BRIAN MILLER